


Risks (And Rewards) Of Heroism

by SilverSkiesAtMidnight



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Someone please save this spider child, Spideypool - Freeform, that's okay this one is mine, this is literally the same thing 50 other people have written better lol, wade worries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 13:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10413720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSkiesAtMidnight/pseuds/SilverSkiesAtMidnight
Summary: Deadpool kills people for a living. Everyone knows that. What, did Spider-Man miss the memo or something while he was out prancing around in form-fitting spandex? Who the hell shows up at a mercenary's house in the dead of night looking for medical attention?Well, someone's gotta save his (great) ass. Guess it's up to Deadpool now.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! First time writing spideypool, wheeee! Let me know how I did, because I honestly have no clue what sort of quality I'm looking at here. I didn't really intend for this to be a fic at all. It was supposed to be like a page to shake off the cobwebs so I could work on one of the longer fics I've been neglecting, and then it was an hour later and I had this, so enjoy! Let me know if I screwed up anywhere(it's late, so that's a very real possibility). 
> 
> I don't have a specific age, but Peter is an adult in this fic.
> 
> In case it's unclear:  
> (words) = Yellow Box  
> [words] = White Box

There's a thud against the window.

This, Wade thinks, is inexcusable. “Thinks” is used loosely, in his mostly asleep state it's more vague concept than actual thought. It doesn't occur to him that the sound at the window is at all strange, considering his apartment’s location on the 4th floor, because again, it is 3 AM and 3 AM is no time for anything to occur to anybody.

There's another two thuds, in rapid succession.

Wade makes a sound somewhere between a whine and a groan, and rolls off the bed.

Ouch.

[Might’ve been a good idea to put our legs beneath us before we headed for the floor.]

White sounds about as thrilled as a cat that's been sprayed with perfume. 

Yellow curses.

There's yet another thud, louder this time.

_“Wade”_ , a voice hisses. 

From the other side of the bed, Deadpool rises with all the lethal, rumpled grace of a disturbed mercenary, the pistol he keeps beside his bed pointed at the dark shape outside his window. 

The figure is slumped against the window, leaning heavily against the frame. They smack the glass again. 

“ _Wade, for fuck’s sake it’s **me.** Put the gun down and open the window._ ”

Wade blinks. Oh. That's _Spider-Man_. And he's _cursing_ , Wade’s never heard him do that.

Tucking his gun into his belt [If we’re going to keep sleeping in our costume, we’ve really gotta do laundry more often], he pads over to to the window and pries it open.   
Spiderman falls through.

Wade has to quickly catch him from landing in a heap on the ground, dragging the rest of his alarmingly limp form off the windowsill and into the apartment. 

His hands come away wet.

He actually glances outside to check that it isn’t raining, which it’s not, of course. 

“ _Shit_ , Spidey, what happened?” There’s a note of panic in his voice.

Spiderman’s reply is mumbled and faint. “Got stabbed a little bit. ‘S fine.”

“Doesn’t _look_ fine,” Wade counters. 

[How would you know? The lights are off.]

Checking that Spider-man - (In our apartment!! We’ve had dreams like this, you know) [He wasn’t gravely injured in any of them, though] - is safely propped against the wall and isn’t about to tip over, he spins and hurries over to the bedroom light. 

[Burned out a month ago.]

(Shame Spidey didn’t give us a heads up that he was going to get stabbed, we coulda made this place a bit less of a hell-hole.)

Wade curses, and turns on the bedside lamp instead, which is thankfully one of the few functional things in the apartment. 

(Hoo-boy, that’s a lot of red.)

[That’s his suit, dumbass.]

It’s still an alarming amount of slightly darker red, stemming from just beneath the vigilante’s ribcage, and Wade feels a knot in his stomach. 

“Okay. Okay. You...don’t heal instantly. That’s a problem, pal, you gotta get on that. Avoid the shady doctors, they’re pretty much just living, used condoms with bondage kinks. Well, some of them are living, some of them not so much…”

The- [possibly dying](Shhh) -man on his floor cuts him off. “You’re rambling,” he rasps. “I’m guessing it doesn’t look great?”

Wade hesitates. “Not super great, no. Look, you need some sort of a doctor. I kill people, Baby Boy, I don’t heal them. And this place is probably really unsanitary for treating stab wounds. Sorry about that.”

Spider-man seems to be making an effort to sit up, quickly aided by an alarmed Deadpool.

“I can’t go to a hospital,” he takes a raspy breath, “they’d take off my mask.”

He looks up at him. “Sorry to be a pain in the butt, but you’re kinda my only option here.”

They stare at each other for a moment.

“I think you’ve made mistakes in your life to be able to say that, but fine. What do you need me to do?”

Spiderman slumps in relief. “You need to apply pressure.”

“That I can do. Hold on, Spidey, I’ll be right back.” He gets a weak thumbs up in response. 

Quickly darting into the restroom, he gathers a clean towel, and remembers that somewhere he’s pretty sure he’s still got a bottle of rubbing alcohol from a while back. He rummages under the sink, desperately hoping that the hero isn’t busy dying on the floor in the next room. 

The pair have only worked together a handful of times, but Deadpool is quite fond of the arachnid-themed vigilante. He doesn’t have a stick up his ass(which is a fine one, Wade might add) like the Avengers and Daredevil seem to, and doesn’t seem completely desperate to get away from Wade at all times, which separates him from 99.9% of humankind. Is he human? He’s never actually confirmed that, as far as Wade can remember. 

[He sure bleeds like a human.]

Wade moves faster.

“Hey, so I found some disinfectant stuff. I figure if you can get stabbed, you can probably get infected, and that’s just no bueno. Spidey?”

His head’s tipped to the side, and he’s gone very still. Wade rushes over.

“ _Damn it_. Spidey, baby boy, c’mon, don’t do this. Wake up. You don’t really wanna die in ol’ Deadpool’s apartment, do ya?”

He has to roll up his mask a few inches to press his fingers to his throat. His skin is awfully pale. 

To Wade’s never-ending relief, he finds a weak pulse, fluttering bird-like against his fingertips. 

“Oh, thank God.” He shifts aside the limp arm covering the wound and presses the towel to it instead. 

“If you can hear me, I’m going to move you to the bed, okay?” As carefully as he can while still applying pressure with the towel, he wedges an arm under his legs and scoops him up in a bridal carry. Spiderman groans, and Wade hisses an apology. 

“Sorry! Sorry. Yeah, stab wounds always hurt like a bitch.”

He lays him down as gently as possible on the bed. His hands flutter briefly over the mask, but he remembers that the whole point to coming here was to avoid that, and leaves it be. 

He peels back the towel slightly to examine the injury. To his surprise, it seems to have already stopped bleeding. 

“Maybe you do have some healing powers,” he says aloud, “just not as badass as mine.”

He picks up the bottle of rubbing alcohol. “If you can hear me, I’m pretty sure I still need to clean it. Necessary evil, sorry.”

Spidey must really be out of it, because he doesn’t even flinch as Wade disinfects the gash. And Wade might not be up to date on his medical training, but even he knows that should sting. 

There doesn’t seem to be much to do after that. The hero definitely has healing abilities. The wound has long stopped bleeding, and already looks to be scabbing over. Wade watches awkwardly at him for a few minutes, as though expecting him to spring to life. Finally, he gives up, brings a chair in from the kitchen, and settles in to wait. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Wade wakes with a grunt, to find sunlight streaming through the window and Spiderman half out of the bed, staring at him.  
“Crap, sorry, I was really trying not to -”

“SPIDEY!” Wade nearly launches himself across the bed at him. 

Spiderman laughs. “Good morning to you too.” Then he hisses sharply as he’s yanked into a tight hug. Wade immediately releases him.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Spiderman waves him off awkwardly. 

“It’s all good, I think you earned a surprise hug after the whole..you know...saving my life deal.”

Wade blinks at him behind his mask. 

“Oh my God. I did, didn’t I? I saved Spiderman’s life!”

He squeals. “Does this mean we get to team up again?” 

Spiderman laughs again, softer this time. “Yeah Wade, I’m pretty sure this means we can team up again.”

He opens the window. 

“And Wade?” He hesitates a moment, and then seems to come to a decision. He rolls up the base of his mask to beneath his nose, leans forward, and kisses Wade gently through the Deadpool mask.

“You can call me Peter.”

He beams at the stunned mercenary, rolls the mask back down, and darts out the window, swinging around the corner of the building before Wade can blink.

“Peter,” he says softly, testing out the sound. 

(I feel like a fangirl at a concert.) 

[Peter is totally a hot guy’s name.]

(I bet he’s a model.) 

[Nah, his nose gets broken too often.]

“Who cares? He's _Spiderman_.”

Wade turns back to the bed, feeling slightly floaty and light. 

[Damn. This means we gotta try and get blood out of our last nice bedspread.]

(It wasn’t that nice.)

“Maybe we can get Peter to come back and lie on the new one. _Uninjured_. Or even better, _under it_.”

Now THAT would be nice.

**Author's Note:**

> Psst. Hey. You guys should totally send me prompts and requests so I have something to write. The plot bunnies have not been generous and I'm on spring break. Hope you liked the story!! Let me know what you thought!! (Even if you didn't like it. I'm tough.)


End file.
